Contritum (V2) (DISCONTINUED)
by Arkilos
Summary: To make life easier for me, I'm moving to my secondary Account. (Novus Arkilum
1. Prologue

**_Harry Potter Contritum (V2)_**

 ** _Prologue._**

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 ** _AN:_**

Before you say anything, I know what your are going to say,

"What the hell man! This is identical to the first version!" With an indictment frown plastered on your face.

If look carefully, you'll find that find I have made a small few changes, this is deliberate choice made by big difference and variation will be in the next chapter.

Thank you for your time.

Please remember to leave a Review, and I promise the next chapter will be full length (3000-4000 words).

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Mr and Mrs. Dursley. Of Number four Privet drive, were proud to say that they are perfectly normal thank you very much. They are the last people you'd expect to involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they simply didn't hold with such nonsense.

Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a very big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large moustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blond and had twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very handy as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursley's have a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.

The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear is that someone would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister , but they haven't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good- for- nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived on the street. The Dursley's knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they never seen him. This boy was another reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.

When Mr and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, grey tuesday morning our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work while Mrs. Dursley gossiped away away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair. None of them noticed a large Tawny owl flutter past the window. At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase , pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley goodbye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and was throwing cereal at the walls. 'Little tyke.' Chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got in the car and backed out of number four's drive.

It was at the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar- a cat reading a map. For a second , Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen- then he jerked his head back around to look again. There a tabby cat standing at the corner of privet drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must of been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley rounded the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive - no, looking at the sign ; cats couldn't read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove into town he thought of nothing but a large order of drills that he was hoping to get in that day.

Leaving Mr. Dursley to his affairs, we traverse elsewhere, north up to the small border village of Godric's Hollow where a small family are frantically shuffling about.

'Quick Lilly he is coming! We don't have time to lose!' A black haired bespectacled man spoke silently, however urgently as he blocked the door and windows

'I've just finished love! With any luck our son will find it when the time comes!' A red haired woman replied with the same urgency.

The man nodded before whipping out his wand. 'Quickly hide yourself and Harry, I'll hold Voldemort as long as I can!'

The women ran up a set of stairs, where in a nursery, she placed a hand on her baby's stomach where faint silver glow emanated. 'Harry James Potter, always remember, we love you.'

BOOOM! The women jumped and looked behind her where she saw an emerald green flash coming from downstairs.

She maintained her hand upon her son's stomach for a second longer, after she rushed to the doorway, where she faltered. And before she could draw her wand she gave a mighty screech. 'NOOO!' The same green filled her vision, and horrible lefter filled now almost vacant nursery. A tall nose less man stood at the door way.

His slatted eyes gazing up the one-year-old boy staring frightened upon the dead body of his mother.

The wicked man grinned evilly, certain of his victory.

'AVADA KEDAVRA!'

The resulting explosion from the killing curse as it connected with Harry left the house in ruins.

A large gaping hole where part of the roof and wall should be. And living the rest of the nursery completely destroyed, with the living room having its windows blown out and shattered across the lawn, along with the brickwork from upstairs.

In his Crib, Baby Harry had cried himself to sleep. The evil man gone.

It wasn't until nightfall that a large motorcycle interrupted the sorrow filled seen.

A large man, with a beard that grew wild, dismounted and looked upon the once beautiful cottage that had belonged to Lily and James Potter.

He let several tears escape, not believing what he was seeing.

Entering the door was already destroyed and in halves in the living room, the lifeless body of James underneath it. Continuing on wards, the large man walked up the stairs, sprawled dead in the nursery he found lilly.

And still sleeping in his crib was Harry James Potter… The-Boy-Who-Lived.

Back at Number four Privet Drive… an elderly man meet with the same tabby cat that Mr. Dursley had been confronted with earlier that morning.… the dark concealing them from unwanted attention.

'Fancy seeing you here, professor McGonagall.' The man said his attention turning to face the tabby cat. Though now replaced by a rather severe looking women. She wore square glasses that held the same shape as the marks on the cat, and around her an emerald green cloak. Her black hair drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.

'How did you know it was me?' She asked.

'My dear professor , I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly.'

'You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on brick wall all day,' said professor McGonagall

'All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here.'

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily. 'Oh yes, everyone's celebrating all right,' she said impatiently. 'You'd think they'd be a bit more careful , but no - even the muggle have noticed something is going on. It's on their news.' She jerked her head towards the Dursleys' dark living-room. 'I heard it. Flocks of owls, shooting stars, well, they're not completely stupid. They are bound somthing. Shooting stars down in Kent- I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense.' Professor McGonagall said with annoyance.

Unnoticed by either, an old a large Barn owl sat up in a tree listening intently to their discussion, never shifting its position as the cold breeze ruffled it's feathers.

The owl looked away from the two, as the groaning of a engine penetrated her ears. Out of the sky descended.

While any Muggle would of assumed a plane was about to crash on top of them, they would be completely surprised to see a jet black motorcycle landing peacefully upon Privet Drive.

The owl continued to listen in, picking up on nothing that seemed relevant to her mission there.

Finale after close to half an hour after the Motorcycle arrived. The three people left, leaving the owl to fly down as it landed upon the pavement. Though she was no longer an owl, but an elderly women, at least twice the age of Albus Dumbledore.

Her face remained hidden underneath her hood, she moved a shaky hand upon the Babe who for the time being slept peacefully In a basket.

A small warm golden light radiated from the women's hand.

'Good luck Harry, and always remember what I have told you.' The women took a deep breath, turning away from the sleeping boy, she turned and instantly flew off as an owl, before shimmering slowly into sand to be blown away by the wind.

Throughout the rest of the Magical community in the United Kingdom men and women silent resided there glasses to one toast.

'To Harry Potter! The- Boy- Who- Lived!'


	2. Chapter 1

**-Chapter one-**

 **-Broken-**

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 **AN:**

I'm sorry the chapter isn't full length this as far as I was willing to extenrd it put of fare of the chapter intrrfaring with the remaining plot line.

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Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun still rose on the same tidy front garden and lit up the same brass four on the Dursley's front door; it crept into their living-room, which was exactly the same as when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the pictures on the mantlepiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-coloured bobble hats - but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a roundabout at the fair, playing computer games with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign of another boy lived in the house, too.

Yet Harry Potter was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. Amongst with the lightning bolt shaped scar that had made him famous were dozens of other scars, cuts and bruises, that marked his body all over.

His Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice which made the first noise of the day.

'Up! Get up! Now!'

Harry woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again. 'UP!' She screeched. Harry heard her walking towards the kitchen.

He rolled onto his back, doing his best to avoid the painful sting that accompanied the scars from yesterday's punishment. He quickly learnt (one of the several lessons that his body afforded him) not to speak when facing his aunt and uncle, or the consequences would be dire. 'Slaves are to be seen, not heard' was his Uncle Vernon's first and foremost rule of the household.

'Are you up yet you filthy mongrel' I want you to cook breakfast. And don't you dare let any of it burn or else. I want everything _perfect_ on Duddy's birthday.'

Harry groaned internally. Dudley's birthday - how could he have forgotten?

As Harry was cooking, Dudley was counting his gifts with some difficulty, though when he had managed the difficult task his fell and his cheeks flushed in anger.

'Thirty-six' he said looking up dangerously at his mother and father

'Darling, you haven't counted aunty marge's present, see, it's under here under the big one from mummy and daddy.'

'Alright Thirty-Seven then.' It was obvious that Dudley was preparing to put on a tantrum.

Unfortunately, distracted by the events unfolding, it wasn't long before Harry managed exactly what he wished dearly not to do, burn the bacon, toast and eggs.

Seeing this, Uncle Vernon's face turned a _bright scarlet purple._ That's right. Not red, but purple. His breathing ragged with rage. Indifferent to the burn marks that had appeared on his nephew's arms.

It was at that moment that Harry knew, it wouldn't be just burns that would be added to the ever growing collection that was his frail little body already carried.

By the time his punishment was over, Harry was ready to pass out. He didn't have the energy to react to the pain as the whip struck at his bare stomach for the 30th and final time. As Harry fell from his hanging position on the door, his Uncle painfully took hold as he threw Harry into his broom closet, Breaking every bone in his legs against the door and its frame.

That gave way with a sudden and very loud CRACK, as the wood broke at contact with Harry's bare legs, leaving numerous splinters stuck into it.

Harry couldn't feel the pain but could see how twisted and mangled his legs where. A pointed end of a bone struck through his flesh and skin.

Vernon stood glaring at the doorway. 'You are not leaving this house until you have paid your due!' He roared.

As the days passed, Harry initially found the situation to be an improvement. However, as life wore on Harry became weaker and thinner. By the end of the month, he became dangerously malnourished, and found himself scarcely able to crawl onto his bed to sleep.

Before this punishment, Harry had least gotten a little food, some bread and water, or whatever was left of Dudley's dinner, provided there was any. Occasions where the whale left any food on his plate were few and far between

By August the first 1991, Harry was close to death and barely able to move himself. His aunt would only bring him meager scraps of food and a glass of water once a day. This was definitely insufficient for a growing eleven year old, let alone a heavily abused, malnourished one.

Thus the stern looking woman wearing an emerald green cloak and spectacles standing outside the doorway of Number Four Privet Drive was practically a godsend to little Harry.

The doorbell rung, the sound travelling across the hallway into the upstairs bedrooms. Where Mr. Dursley, clad in mere bath dark red bath robes, made his way downstairs and answered the door indignantly. Seeing the woman, he stared at august. He then looked back at the clock on the wall nearby, the time that read 7:30 am. He went completely red in the face 'Who in the blazes are you madam!? Do you have any idea what time it is!' The women standing at the door remained stoic, her lips thinning, her cheeks flushed in anger.

'The time of the day is the least of your concerns, Mr. Dursley.!' she exclaimed, her tone now very cross, leaving Petunia Dursley shifting from foot to foot nervously behind her husband.

'I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry I'm here to take legal custody of Harry James Potter, whom I know is in residence here, He won't be party to any more of your abuse!'

She continued, forcing her way into the household, closing the door behind. 'I won't be having any more dealings with your kind freak! I ask you to remove yourself from my home immediately, there is no Potter in residence here!" Vernon replied hotly.

Before the argument could continue, a faint muffled thump could be heard from the broom closet under the stairs. Followed by the rasping of fingers clawing away at wood.

Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Pushing through the Dursleys, she used a quick S shaped swish of her wand, and all the locks that were on the door, unlocked with a uniform

Click.

Opening the door, she gasped, face paling rapidly. On the floor, she found an unconscious Harry Potter, covered in bruises and burns. Tears formed in the witch's eyes as she muttered 'how could I have let this happen'

The extremely anxious elder Dursleys were sent to the living room post haste and then precious little Duddy was woken up and sent in with them.

Meanwhile Prof. McGonagall sent for help from Saint Mungo's Hospital in downtown London.

It wasn't long before the Healers came to take Harry away, along with outraged social workers and Aurors from the Ministry of Magic, who quickly made their way to the Dursleys.

'Vernon Higgs Dursley and Petunia Evans Dursley. I, Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, hereby place you under arrest for the following charges committed against one Harry James Potter.

You have been accused of Child Abuse, Assault, and Slavery.

You have the right to remain silent, Anything you say might and will be used against you.'

After a minute, Vernon had found his voice 'We do not answer to the likes of you!'

It was evident that Shacklebolt had dealt with the likes of Mr. Dursley before, if his answer was anything to go by. 'There are many other charges here. Many of which the Muggle legal system would happy to arrest you for, but unfortunately for you, you have also committed charges against the Ministry of Magic, so I would advise that you shut your mouth, lest you get into even more trouble than you already are in.

Or should I add assaulting an Auror to your charges?'

Vernon whimpered, and muttered a faint and nervous, 'Mimblewimble.'

Elsewhere in the household, the team of Healers from St. Mungo's Hospital were working furiously to keep Harry alive and stable. 'Reading severe malnutrition, multiple bone fractures and breaks. Multiple burns and mild concussion. Preparing for transportation, prepare room for surgery immediately!'

That was the last thing Harry heard before his world faded to black.

When he woke, unfamiliar faces crowded around him, and he found that he had left the house for the first time in his life. Then, he slept. Later when he woke again, he realised he was in a strange room, on something that that felt soothing against his back, surrounded by people. The world blurred before his eyes and he suddenly felt pain, so much pain. He shuddered once, and was still, not to awaken for several weeks

He was faintly aware of voices, and images being spoken in his mind

 _A small girl with bushy brown hair, warm chocolate brown eyes, pale skin, and buck teeth ran up to the front door of a household from her bedroom, opening it. On the other side stood a familiar woman, the one who had saved him._

 _She was carrying an envelope in her hands._

 _'Hello young one,' the women greeted with a warm smile on her lips. 'I wish to speak to your parents, I assume one of them is at home.'_

 _The bushy haired girl nodded nervously, a warm red blush appearing on her cheeks, as a middle aged women appeared behind her daughter._

 _'Who is at the door honey, oh.'_

 _'Good afternoon. Mrs. Granger, May I please come in? My name is Minerva McGonagall, There is much we need to discuss this evening concerning your daughters education.'_

 _The mother figure nodded, her chocolate brown eyes filled with a growing nervousness as the elderly women spoke._

 _'Of course, please do, there is plenty of space in the living room. Is there anything I can get for you to drink.'_

August 17th 1991 was the day Harry would wake up and become fully conscious. A full 17 days after he had been evacuated from the hospital.

Harry felt himself in a daze, and none of his surroundings were familiar. _Was he still dreaming? Would he wake up in a few minutes and find out that it had all been some strange wonderful dream?_

Sitting at his bedside is an elderly man who appeared very old, if the silver of his hair was any judge of that.

'Ah, It's very good to see you awake at last, Mr. Potter.'


End file.
